Whisper, in Smokey Light
by Jo Z. Pierce
Summary: Tony Villacana books a gig for L.A. Freeway at a Punk Rock Club, and Cyler has an encounter, with a mysterious woman. Rated M for mild sexual topics, language and violence. Book One of In the Light series
1. The Slammed Box

Author's Note: Story takes place, second season, sometime after _Devil in the Deep Blue Sea_.

This story is written to be read as a stand alone, but will eventually be part of my _In the Light_ Series.

**Rated M.** Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16. Contains possible strong but non-explicit adult themes, references to violence, and strong coarse language.

_Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or situations created for tGAH; I am borrowing them purely for entertainment purposes. I make no profit from their use._

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**Chapter 1. The Slammed Box**

"Tony, are you sure this is the right place?" Rhonda asked, as the band looked suspiciously at the bar across the street, from the comfortable overstuffed leather seats of the Villacana Piranha.

"Hey, Villacana, she's right. This can't be the right place." Cyler added, as he watched people gathering around the entrance.

"Yeah... yeah. _The Slammed Box_. This is it. I heard this is the place where all the new bands outta L.A. are comin' outta."

Cyler shook his head, amazed that he once again agreed to let Tony Villacana manage their band, _L.A. Freeway_. He swore he would never listen to Tony again, especially after the last booking fiasco. Tony booked the band to open for a lizard named Stanley Sharpe at a lounge next to the Howard Johnson's just outside of Bakersfield.

"Man. This is going nowhere!" Cyler shook his head.

"Hey, come on, guys. Let's see what's going on." Paco, the eternal optimist and opportunist, was willing to give it a try. "Maybe these guys in there could give us some fashion tips, you know!"

The rest of the band turned to Paco, and looked at him as if he was out of his mind.

"Aw, come on Tony, I don't know about this," Rhonda asked, looking at the black leather and spiked hair of the crowd forming at the doors. "They don't seem to be... well, you know... our type."

"Yeah, Tony. These guys look like punks." Cyler said, as he quickly removed the thin silvery headband fixed like a crowd around his head. Somehow it no longer looked cool.

Tony looked at the crowd, then nervously turned his gaze to his friends. "Whaddya you guys talking about!" The young man adjusted his leather jacket, then asked defensively, "Ain't I some kinda punk?"

"No, you're not, Tony," Rhonda assured her boyfriend. "Not like this..."


	2. Innocents at the Door

**Chapter 2. Innocents at the Door**

Tony jumped out of the car, and headed to the second car where the rest of the band was waiting.

As Rhonda, Paco and Cyler piled out of Tony's car, Cyler noted that Rhonda looked worried. He was surprised; he had only seen her look this frightened a few times before.

"Rhonda, look, don't worry about it" Cyler said, softly. "They look different, sure. But I bet they are ok. You know?"

"I dunno Cyler. That looks like a rough place."

"Rougher than the Voodoo doctor? Rougher than those guys in the old abandonned mine? Come on, you've been through worse than this!"

"Yeah, Rhonda," Paco added. "The worse that could happen is they don't like your singing."

Cyler gave Paco one of those looks. The kind of look that said "_Smooth move._" Cyler wondered why Paco always had to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"Come on. Let's catch up." Cyler said, aggravated.

Tony led the group through the crowd. All eyes turned to them. Rhonda, in particular, stood out in her white dress with puffy princess sleeves. She stood close to Cyler. As Tony approached the door, he heard someone laugh.

A voice shouted out of the crowd. "Look! It's the Fonz! Michael Jackson! and Olivia Newton John!"

"Yeah, very funny." Tony replied to the laughing crowd.

As they approached the door, Tony walked up to a young man dressed in torn black jeans and a t-shirt. His hair, colored bright blue, was cut in a Mohawk. Several holes pierced his ears, each with a safety pin. Although the two were the same size and build, Tony Villacana's typically tough demeanor appeared innocent by comparison.

Tony approached the door, and calmly stated his business. "We're the band. We got a gig here tonight."

The man in the door was in shock. He could not believe what he was seeing. "I think you made a mistake..."

"Come on Fonzie," Cyler said, as he tried to tug at Tony's jacket and get him back to the car. "He's right. Sandra Dee and the rest of us don't belong here."

"I said we had a booking." Whether they were hard-ass FBI agents, or punk rock bouncers, Tony didn't step down for any man. "I spoke to your manager, last week. We're playing here, tonight. Go check with your boss. We're _L.A. Freeway_. Man, we even played at the Classical Gas concert!"

The man looked at Tony, and laughed at his apparent lack of street sense. He shook his head, amazed. "Ok. Come in. See for yourself." He moved to one side, letting Tony and his band through.

As the band walked through the hall up to the main doors, the bouncer called out to them, in a mocking voice. "Hey, if you're some kinda undercover cops, you won't find anything here!"

Tony looked at his friends, slightly confused, and a bit insulted. "What the hell did that mean? Cops? What is he, crazy?"

As the group entered, Tony finally realized that all of this was, indeed, a mistake. Perhaps he knew it all along. The crowd was hard, and the music, violent. And the thumping vibrations echoing up through the floorboard made it all painfully obvious.

This was another mixup by Tony Villacana.


	3. Slam Dancing

**Chapter 3. Slam Dancing**

The group squeezed their way down a long hallway, as they pushed through the crowd, guitars and keyboards in hand. Although they could easily make their way through the people, the heavy beats and vibrations of thumping feet kept them moving at a slow pace. Opening a pair of large black doors, they entered the main room, and stood dead in their tracks.

The club was dark and smoke filled, lit only by a few neon lights and spotlights aimed at the stage. The music was angry, pounding. A band thrashed on stage, screaming out razor sharp lyrics to acidic music. The dance floor was in violent upheaval, as faceless figures in black banged against each other in anger and rage. As they watched, a woman rushed onto the stage, then without hesitation, hurled herself into the sea of dark flailing bodies.

Rhonda grabbed Tony's jacket, and pulled herself in to his arms. "Tony, I don't like it here. I wanna leave."

Tony looked frightened himself, as if caught in a back alley knife fight with nothing but a ball point pen in his pocket.

"Man, I don't like this place, Tony. Why don't we just split?" Cyler was way past worried. At this point, he wondered what his friend was thinking for bringing them there, and if he had truly lost his mind.

The group turned to leave, but realized the crowd between them and the front exit would be more difficult to navigate through in the opposite direction. They would have to find another way out.

Cyler quickly realized that Tony was in over his head. "Look, man!" Cyler hit Tony on the back to get his attention, as he screamed over the loud music. He had to use his hands to reinforce his loud but inaudible words. "Why don't you guys just stand here! I'll find another way out! Okay? I'll be back!"

Although Cyler's single, tall, and thin body could squeeze through the crowds relatively easily, he was pushed side to side in between the thrashing dancers. In desperation, he headed towards a few doors near the back of the stage. He approached the doors, entered, and found himself in a long, dimly lit hall. He was unsure where he was, but at least there were only a few people back here. Released from the pounds and pressure of slamming bodies on the dance floor, at least he could walk normally.

Cyler made his way down the dark, smokey hall, past a few curious onlookers smoking what looked like hand rolled cigarettes and long ebony cigarette holders. Finally, he felt a cool pocket of air coming from the end of the hall. Through the smoke, he saw a staircase, an open door, and a few streetlights in the distance. Relieved that he had found an exit, he stopped quickly, and turned around to retrieve his friends.

In his haste to find an exit, Cyler had not noticed the woman following him through the crowds, and into the hallway. As he stopped and turned, their bodies crashed. Hard and violent, their bodies came together, like the scores of combat boots on the dance floor hit the floor.


	4. Secret Whispers, Violent Kisses

**Chapter 4. Secret Whispers, Violent Kisses**

Cyler looked down at the woman. Her skin was pale white, and pasty. Bright red lipstick and thick kohl eyeliner made her look like a bizarre geisha, turned zombie. At one point, perhaps she had been pretty. Now, her beauty was as obscured as her age. Cyler decided she was either quite young and beaten down by the ravages of chemicals in her body and on her hair, or growing old and desperately trying to fight off the tell tale signs of age.

Her hair was a tragic kaleidoscope of bleeding colors, caused by years of abuse, and the failed attempts to cover over each new layer. At her crown, the flaming red roots almost looked natural, although they were caked with scum - the residue of attempts to force Mohawk spikes with nothing but a bar of dry Ivory soap. The red bled into fading black, the result of two many failed attempts to create jet black. At the end, several inches of bleached white hair brushed up against her crackled black leather jacket. A red bra, torn fish net stockings, black pleather mini skirt, and a pair of combat boots completed her wardrobe.

"You don't belong here, do you?" she whispered.

Somehow, Cyler thought the same thing about her.

"Uh, I was just trying to find my way out. My friends and I were supposed to play here tonight. But.."

She laughed. "But it was a mistake..." Although hard and broken, she looked up at him with a concerned look in her bloodshot eyes. It was painfully clear that he was out of his element.

"Look, this place. It's not your scene. You and your friends should leave. Soon."

"Yeah." Cyler smiled at the woman in front of him. For the first time since they pulled up in the Villacana Piranha, he didn't feel like his life was in danger. In fact, he almost felt at ease. Something about this woman, although tragic and beaten by the world, somehow did not seem threatening.

Without warning, she pulled herself closer to him, and pulled at his shirt. With a tug, she brought his face down to hers. "Listen," she said, as she pulled him in closer. "You'd better go, now."

Cyler, in shock, didn't resist. Wide eyed, he stared into her eyes. Then, in a protective voice, she whispered to him.

"Something is going to happen. Soon."

"What? What's gonna happen?" Cyler whispered back.

Looking past him, the woman noticed two men at the end of the hall. Suspicious, they stared at the two figures whispering like lovers in the dark. Realizing they had been spotted, she grabbed his neck, and pressed her lips up against his, violently. Although he was surprised, he did not refuse. He even dared to take hold of her arms, in an odd form of active submission.

As their lips finally parted, she moved and nibbled at his chin, whispering a few words in between each bite. "Listen. You. Your friends. Don't... be... here."

Just as violently as she had kissed him, she pushed him away.

Cyler stood in shock for a moment, then slowly nodded his head, and cautiously walked past her, towards the door that would lead him back to the pulsating dance floor, and to his friends. When he reached the door, he turned to say goodbye. But as quickly as she had appeared, she was already gone, down the long hallway.


	5. The Buzz

**Chapter 5. The Buzz**

"What time is it, Ralph?" Pam asked her passenger, as they turned the corner in her white convertible Volkswagon Bug.

"It's not even 9:30. We have plenty of time...You know I don't know this place they are playing in... do you?"

Pam simply shook her head, which was followed by his shrug.

The two pulled up to the address, and slowly drove past the open doorway. Things were tense on the sidewalk, as punks, posers, and a handful of police officers merged into one large group.

"Are you sure this is the right place, Ralph? This doesn't look like the kind of place the kids would hang out at..." Pam looked at him, shocked and in disagreement.

Ralph once again scanned over the words scribbled on a piece of paper as Pam slowed down the car. He pulled a map out of the glove compartment, unfolded it, and cross referenced the two.

"This is it, Pam..." Ralph finally answered, in a confused tone. "And look! There's Tony's car!" Ralph pointed out the Villacana Piranha parked across the street from the club, as they slowly drove past.

"Maybe we should find a spot, Pam."

Pam nodded, then asked if he had his suit on. "You know, just in case?"

Ralph turned pale. He didn't always wear the suit, especially on those rare occasions that Bill said to take the night off. They weren't running scenarios tonight, and certainly there was no reason to wear it just to go hear his students' band play.

At least, that was what he thought.

"I left it at home, Pam. I didn't think that..."

As they drove by, his head turned to follow two more police cars that had just arrived.

Pam, sped up the car, as they looked for a place to park. Finding a parking spot a few blocks down, she shook her head. _"It's all going to be ok,"_ she was telling him without speaking.

As soon as she finished a sloppy parallel park, the two jumped out of the car, anxious to get back to the scene. By the time the couple had returned, the sidewalk was buzzing with confusion, as officers pushed their way in towards the doors, and colorful characters squeezed their way out.

"Round the back! Secure all exits!" he heard one officer cry out, as several officers scattered.

Pam turned to Ralph, concerned.

"Maybe we should call Bill, and have him bring the suit..."

The two looked around to find a payphone. Nothing.

"Pam, you go and find a phone. But I can't wait. I'll just have to do this one without the suit..."

Ralph pushed his way into the crowd, leaving Pam at the edge of the sidewalk. She watched for a moment as he disappeared into the angry crowd. Then, pulling herself together, she ran off to find a public phone.


	6. The Rush

**Chapter 6. The Rush**

Cyler pushed his way back out into the main room, to look for his classmates. The room was crowded, and the tension was high. Little hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

The woman in the hall was right. Things were about to get nasty.

Cyler finally spotted Tony across the room. He had just peeled Rhonda off his chest, then roughly pushed her towards Paco as he saw Cyler approach. His backup was here. Now was the time to move.

"Get her outta here!"

Tony was in the middle of a shouting match. He stood face to face against three teens with spiked hair and safety pinned ears. Even across the room, Cyler could see that he was losing this match. Tony used both arms to block the pointing jabs made towards his chest by fingers with dark, painted nails.

Cyler pushed his way through the crowd, to come to his friend's aide, even if he didn't deserve his loyalty.

"_Villacana!" _Cyler thought to himself._ "You walked us right into a time bomb!"_

As he approached the group, the three punks pulled back, surprised. Bright red lipstick was smeared across Cyler's lips, and ran down across the left side of his chin. Paco laughed, and asked what he was doing back there all this time. The three punks agreed. As they all laughed at the sight, Tony pulled back this right arm, ready to take them on. But before he could strike, the tension shifted.

Three dark silhouettes ran across the stage, pushing musicians and stage hands to the side. Like thieves caught in the act, they rushed the stage, jumped off and landed in the middle of the crowd. As best they could, they fought their way back into the hallway where Cyler had found their escape route.

The music was quickly replaced with the yelling and screaming of angry dancers and mobilized punks. Some grabbed at anything near them, hoping to find a weapon. Others grabbed the shirts and hair of anyone standing by, as meaningless anger was unleashed throughout the crowd. People became upright battering rams, as bodies were shoved against one another on the crowded dance floor.

Paco pushed Rhonda aside, and held up his guitar, like a thick but fragile club.

"Rodriguez! What are you gonna do with that?" Tony asked. "Strum someone to death?"

Paco began to lower the guitar, but felt his arm pulled by a tall and menacing woman. Caught off guard, he had no time to react as she wrestled the instrument from his hand. Like a dark Viking warrior, she swung it around. Paco ducked, avoiding the blow. The woman carried through, and smashed the guitar up against a pillar. Paco winced, then ducked again, as she swung the broken guitar around once more.

"PIGS!" someone yelled out from somewhere in the crowd.

It didn't seem possible, but the tension in the room doubled. The angry rumblings of punks turned into panic, fueled by hostility, as they rushed for the exits.

"Come on! Come on!" Rhonda cried out, pointing. "Under the stage!" The students fought their way, against the chaotic crowd, as they headed for the stage. Lifting a short black curtain, they dove underneath, pulling microphones and amplifiers off the stage, their bodies entangled within wires and electrical cords. Finally, they were all underneath the stage.

Like a cloak, they pulled the curtain back down in front of them.

As they crouched down in the darkness, no one said a word. Especially Tony.

The band huddled under the stage, as they listened to people fighting for an exit. They heard the front door burst open, and a few guns fired into the air. The movement of the crowd shifted immediately, as fighters split into two groups. One rushing towards the back exit, in a desperate attempt to flee the scene. The second group fought their way to the front door, as a few officers, bruised and bloodied, pushed their way in. Each had several people hanging onto them, fists and weapons swinging wildly. Sorely outnumbered, the officers pulled their weapons and began firing warning shots into the air.


	7. The Call for Backup

**Chapter 7. The Call for Backup**

Ralph stood at the front doors, trying to push his way in, against a tide of angry and frightened punk rockers. He froze in his shoes as he heard the shots fired.

"Tony!!! Rhonda!!! Where are you?"

Another wave of people came rushing out the door. There was no way in, Ralph quickly realized, as he watched the police struggle through. Maybe there was another entrance.

He turned and looked at a stream of people in the distance, apparently running away. They were about a block to the south, and were all coming from the same direction.

"_A back door?"_

He turned and headed in that direction.

-----

"At least three police cars. Maybe more." Pam spoke into the phone, quickly.

"Well, Counselor, that's all the way across town! There's no way I'll be able to get all the way to Ralph's place, get the suit..."

"Bill! Listen to me! The kids are in there!"

Bill Maxwell sat at his desk at the Federal Building. His right hand cupped his forehead as he held the receiver in the other.

"Davidson! Those organ grinders are probably the reason they called our boys out in the first place."

"Bill! BILL! It's a punk rock club! And they're caught inside!"

"Yeah? So? What's your point, darlin?"

Pam's knuckles were turning white as she gripped the public phone tighter.

"You're not listening to me, Counselor," Bill continued, with a deep sigh. "I'll call in for some more backup, and I'll be there as soon as I can. But he's gonna have to go it alone, on his own, without the suit for a while. It'll be almost an hour, by the time I get there... And why didn't he bring the suit with him! I told him... to always..."

Pam slammed the phone down. Across town, Bill Maxwell stared in disbelief at the receiver in his hand, angry at the monotonous buzz of the dial tone.

-----

A small group of police officers caught up with Ralph, as he turned the corner and headed towards the back of the building. It was just as crowded in the back of the club as it was in the front.

"_There was no way all these people could fit inside that one club,"_ Ralph thought to himself. _"At least not and till conform to code."_

He followed the police, quickly jogging behind them. As they approached the back entrance, they reached a bottleneck of bodies, some trying to enter, others desperate to exit.

"Everybody out of the way!" one cop yelled, aiming a gun up into the air. Two warning shots fired. "This is a raid!"

The police began to force their way in between angry punks, a few of holding up makeshift weapons of chair legs and other furnishings. Ralph, wanting to follow them inside, pulled at the sleeve of one of the policeman who was also trying to force himself in.

"_My kids are in there!"_

Ralph didn't even have time to let the words form on his lips.

Not noticing that Ralph was not one of the punks, the officer felt only a threatening hand tugging at his arm. In his own defense, he lifted his elbow up to the level of Ralph's temple. With one sharp blow to the right side of his head, Ralph was knocked to the ground.

Collapsed at the door's threshold, desperate feet began to step and climb over Ralph's limp body.

-----

"_Maxwell, we've already got 5 units on it!"_

Knowing he couldn't get Ralph his suit in time, he did the next best thing, and called for additional backup. That didn't mean that he liked the answer he got.

"Listen, Peterson. I got some people in there. And I need to get them out, safe! Now if you don't want to see a Federal Reprimand on your record..."

"_Listen, Maxwell. We got the call about an hour ago. I'll alert my Lieutenant about your agents, but we're already flushing the place out now. It should be over, in the next few minutes."_

Bill slammed the phone down. He hated feeling helpless, but there was not much else he could do besides head out. Yet he knew, deep down, that he'd never make it in time.

"Ralph," he mumbled to himself. "Just don't do anything stupid..."

-----

Cyler lifted the hem of the curtain, just enough to get a peek at what was happening outside. The typically dark and hazy room suddenly felt even darker.

"I think the cops shot out some of the lights..." he informed his friends.

"Like it wasn't dark enough," Tony replied. They all sat in silence, thinking about their impending doom.

"Well, like how do we get outta here?" Paco asked, breaking the silence after a few long minutes

The frightened teens looked around, trying to adjust their eyes to the darkness. Wires and cables hung down from the stage just overhead. Movement through the crawl space was impossible at best.

"Tony," said a soft voice. "I'm scared."

The rest of the teens sat in silent shock as they listened to his reply.

"Yeah Rhonda. I am too."

-----

"Ralph? RALPH!!" Pam searched through the crowd. There was no sign of him.

Pam's arms flailed into the crowd, as she tried to push her way into the building, desperate to find her fiancé. She was afraid for him, not even knowing he was unconscious at the back entrance. Pam, however, sensed that something bad had happened to her fiancé.

Over the past two years, she had come to see him as invincible, as a superhero. Perhaps he had come to see himself that way, too. It was for that reason that she was terrified.

"_Oh, Ralph!"_ She thought, as she tried to get to him. _"Please don't forget you're not wearing the suit tonight." _

"You've gotta get out of here, lady!" A police officer pulled at her shoulders, and dragged her away from the crowd. He handed her back to another uniformed man, who in turn pushed her aside, into the cordoned off street, and out of the stream of angry youth.

More shots were fired, first inside the club. A few seconds later, shots rang out from behind the building, followed by the sirens of an ambulance or two.

Pam stood in the middle of the street, thinking of what could have been happening to Ralph. She stood frightened, screaming into the uninterested crowd.

"Somebody!" Her eyes swelled up with tears. "Anybody... please... help!"


	8. On Hands and Knees

**Chapter 8. On Hands and Knees**

"Come on, chumps! We can't wait here all day." Cyler was just as afraid as the rest of them, but he knew he had to be the one to think straight.

Someone had to.

He peeked out from behind the curtain once more, to see what was going on. As he did, two more shots were fired, and another overhead light went out, raining little sparks down to the floor, and filling the room with more subtle poofs of smoke. He quickly ducked back into their hiding spot, and crouched down again under the low stage.

"On the other hand..."

"Nah, you're right, man," Tony respnded, trying to take the lead. "We can't just sit here, like sitting ducks. We gotta get outta here. Somehow."

"Ok, wait here, everybody," Cyler said, in as authoritative voice as he could muster up. He dropped onto all fours, then rotated on his kneecaps to face the other direction.

Cyler crawled along the curtain, trying to find his way round to the other side of the stage. He knew the stage would eventually end near that back door, where the long hallway lead to the back exit. Where she had mysteriously appeared, then just as quickly disappeared.

It was their best shot.

As he crawled, he pushed aside cables and wires. Between the wiry guts of the instruments and equipment that dangled from above, the darkness of the crawlspace, and the sharp pricks of broken glass and abandoned metal underneath the stage, the crawl was excruciatingly painful and slow.

"You gonna be all day, man?" Paco called out, giggling from where the rest of the band sat waiting. "Cause, like if you are, I'm gonna go ahead and call in for some pizza!"

Tony punched him in the arm. "This ain't no time for jokes, ok? Rhonda's scared..." Two more distant shots were fired, followed by a woman's scream, and a hollow thud - the sound of a body falling to the floor. Tony tried to pull Rhonda in, closer to him, but she was already on her hands and knees, following Cyler.

"Aw, Tony, I can't just sit here. I gotta get outta here..."

One by one, the band dropped on all fours. Following Cyler's lead by sound, more than by sight, they each began to crawl under the stage, towards the back exit. Rhonda, with her knees and legs exposed, was especially uncomfortable, as glass and metal strewn across the floor cut sharp cuts into her and stained her once white princess dress with smeared drops of blood.

"Careful, everyone." Cyler called back. "It's rough, but there's a doorway back there, guys, and a hallway leading out."

Two more shots were fired.

Cyler, reaching the end of the stage, stopped and peeked out of the curtain again. The room was still pretty dark. A few streams of light flashed back and forth, like small spotlights against the walls and floors.

"_Flashlights," _Cyler thought. _"No, several flashlights."_

Sirens began to wail from outside. They were faint, but it was clear that it was the sound of an ambulance or two. As an accompaniment, a crashing noise from just above the stage startled everyone.

"What the hell was that?" Tony demanded. Following closely behind Rhonda, he tugged at the ruffles of her dress to keep her close by, but tearing it from the seam at her waist.

Several other crashes followed, as well as a scream.

"Rhonda?" Cyler called back.

"Wasn't me!"

Paco, near the end of the line, found himself caught up in several cables. As he squirmed to try to get free, more equipment from above came falling down.

"Hey! What's going on?" A loud, booming voice echoed across the room. "Is someone underneath there?" Rays of light flashed back and forth against the curtain as it flapped, as if in the wind.

"Guys, I'm gotta make a run for it," Cyler stated firmly, as he looked back at his friends. "Wait for me to get through ok. Ok? Maybe they'll think it's just me underneath here. Ok?"

Without waiting for a reply, Cyler dashed out into the open, catching just a beam or two of a flashing light.

"This is the police! Freeze, or we'll shoot!"

Suddenly terrified, Cyler raced through the door and into the hallway. Two pistol shots followed.

The rest of the band waited in silent shock as they heard the gunfire. On hands and knees they waited, undecided about their next move.


	9. Dead

**Chapter 9. Dead**

Ralph felt a trickle of blood stream down his face, slowly dribbling from the right side of his head. He put his hand up to feel the throbbing pain, as he fought the dizziness, but even that small exertion made his head seem light and weightless. As he tried to press against the wound he found his fingers wet and sticky, and warm with his own blood.

He tried to move out of the way of the next wave of fleeing feet. Yet, he could barely roll over onto his side. A pair of combat boots stumbled over him, kicking him in the left shoulder. The throbbing was suddenly replaced with the sharp pain of hard steel tipped boots against his upper back.

Ralph groaned, trying to keep himself conscious, despite the pain. After a few moments, after fighting against his urge to fall to sleep, he felt a pair of strong hands rolling him back on his side.

"Bill? Is that you?" Ralph asked, with closed eyes.

"Man down! Man down! Let's get an ambulance here!" The voice seemed unfamiliar.

The man looked down at Ralph, and pulled him out of the doorway, and shielded him from any further harm.

"Hey, hey," the man pleaded, trying to keep Ralph awake. "What are you? Undercover? G-Man?"

Ralph did not answer.

"Come on, buddy. Don't fall asleep."

Ralph's eyes opened, but quickly drooped closed, as he fought to stay awake. Propping Ralph up, the man searched through Ralph's tweed jacket's pockets, looking for a badge, and a gun.

From inside the building, they could just barely make out the sound of gun fire. Two shots.

"Tony... inside..." Ralph finally mumbled slowly, as he feebly reached towards the door. "I've... got... to..."

"Ok. Take it easy. We've got it covered," the man continued, still searching for a badge. "Last thing we need is a dead fed."

He looked at Ralph, hoping the off color joke would keep him awake.

"Come on. We got a call from one of your boys that you Feds were here, too..." The man checked Ralph's pockets once more.

"Where the hell is your badge? Your gun?" he thought, as he continued to rummage through the pockets. Although he had passed it up before, he went back and opened Ralph's wallet.

"Shit, don't tell me you're a civilian," he said, looking through Ralph's ID. "Ok, Mr. Hinkley, stay with us..."

Ralph stared back, eyes blank and expressionless.

An ambulance rolled around to the back of the club, at which point the two officers waved them in to their position. Two EMS technicians ran over, and lifted Ralph onto a stretcher. As he was about to be loaded into the ambulance, Ralph saw Pam out of the corner of his eye. In the distance, he could just barely tell that she was looking for him.

"Pam..." he tried to yell, although it sounded closer to a whisper.

As the doors closed, the officer hit the back of the ambulance twice, then waved the driver on. He turned, and headed through the back door.

-----

L.A. traffic was unusually backed up, especially for 9:45 on a Friday night. Bill mumbled insults out the window at lines of drivers, guilty only of being on the same road as he was.

"Come on, you bozos! Get off the road!" he yelled out the window, waving his left arm at the motionless air. "Don't you people have somewhere to be?"

He looked around and took in a deep breath, realizing there was not much he could do. His hands, returned to the steering wheel and gripped it tightly. He gritted his teeth in anger, as he continued to mumble. After a drawn out minute waiting, his knuckles turned white in his desperate grip. Finally, tired of waiting, he sharply turned to the right, and pushed on the pedal, taking his car out onto the shoulder. Honking, he drove by dozens of cars frozen in their parked positions.

Expecting a siren or flashing lights to follow him, he checked his rear view mirror several times, as he quickly made his way to the next exit. Relieved that he made it uninterrupted, he thanked the heavens that one thing went right tonight, and began to speed through the back streets to find the Slammed Box.

"What kind of stupid name is that, anyway?" he mumbled, picking up speed. "Come on, kids. Hang on. The old cavalry will be there in just a few more minutes."

-----

The hallway ahead of Cyler was longer than he remembered. And since most of the club had already vacated, the hall seemed far too empty. Cyler ducked as he heard a shot ring out. Looking back, then looking around more, he realized that the hallway was by now mostly empty, which also made him an easier target.

To his right, a door was slightly ajar.

A second shot, again fired from behind, was enough to convince him to hide inside.

The room, although dark, felt more like a storage room or closet. The air felt thick and musty, with old boxes lining the walls. But it was a place to hide for the moment. And that was enough.

Cyler tried to find a place to stand out of sight. As he tried to position himself, he felt his foot come down and land on something. It was not exactly hard, and gave away slightly under the pressure of his foot. Cyler tried to nudge it aside. Like a hard rubber hose, or a stiff sack of clothes, it moved slightly, as if it was attached to something larger, and even more unyielding.

Pulling his foot back, it seemed to roll again, and retake its original position.

Cyler looked around for a light, but saw none.

He kicked again, with the same reaction. But instead of pulling his foot back, he ran his foot up and down along its length. It ended on one end, to the left. But on the other end, to his right, it carried on behind some boxes.

"What the hell...?"

Cyler squatted down and felt around by his feet. Finally, his fingers touched leather. It was soft, as if it was old and well worn. He ran the fingers of his right hand along it's length, and felt the boxes. Here the boxes seemed thrown haphazardly, as if they were almost ready to tumble down. They shifted slightly.

Confident they would not tumble down, he ran his left hand along the soft leather, too, until it ended in cold metal. Cautiously his left fingers followed along, as he ventured an inch or two further. His left fingers froze in place, as his fingers slipped in between the openings of another set of cold, stiff digits.

Feeling the cold lifeless flesh against his, Cyler realized what he had stumbled upon.

He jumped back, and screamed.

-----

Pam watched as the ambulance drove away. She had not been able to find Ralph. Now seeing the ambulance, and hearing the sirens of several more, her heart began to race, and her stomach turned.

Although the commotion was beginning to calm down slightly, as many of the punks at the club had long since left, there was still a lot of noise and screaming all around.

She continued to look around, hoping to find Ralph and the kids. She hoped that she would turn around to find him with the kids in tow. She hoped that Bill would show up, with the suit in hand, and that all would sort itself out, like it always seemed to do. But right now, there was indication that this would be the case.

She looked at the back door of the Slammed Box. A few people still trickled out. Perhaps this is where Ralph had disappeared. As she head for the door, a hand reached out, and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back.

She lost her footing, and fell backwards. A hand tried to hold her up, but could only hold her blouse as she began to fall. Caught only by her sleeve, she found herself in the arms of a man.

"Bill?" she instinctively thought. She looked up, and let out a small scream, realizing it was not him.

"Is this the bitch?" the voice yelled out, as he shook her. She looked over, and three punks, dressed in black, snarled at her, as they began to violently push her back and forth between them, yelling back and forth at each other, in frenzied conversation.

"No! She was a punk...! This bitch is..."

"Did that bitch call you?"

"You a pig?"

"Bitch set us up!"

"Come on! Let's go!"

"When we find her, she's dead!"

"Let's go!"

"She fucked us!"

"Tell her she's dead! Dead!"

"Come on! Cops're everywhere!"

"The bitch is dead!"

With on hard push, Pam was finally set free. She landed, hands first, on the concrete ground. Trying to process the conversation, she looked up just in time to catch sight of the three dark figures as they ran off.

-----

Cyler turned and opened the door. All he wanted was to run out into the dim, smokey light of the hallway. Instead, Cyler found himself facing the end of a gun.

"FREEZE! This is the police!"

Letting out a panicked yell, Cyler threw his arms up into the air. Shaking, he began to chatter.

"There's a body in here... a dead body, man! I found a body..."

The officer with the gun put it back in its holster, looking Cyler up and down.

"You don't belong here, kid..."

It was not the first time tonight that someone in that hallway realized just how out of place he was here.

Now he finally understood why she had warned him to leave. She knew that something was wrong, all along...

The officer who had helped get Ralph just a moment before ran into the hallway with his gun drawn. He screamed out his name and unit. The two officers exchanged information, screaming at each other, from across the hallway.

"Is everything secure?" The second officer asked, looking up and down the hallway.

"Not everything. But this kid here just found one of the bodies. We're gonna have to take you in, kid, to ask some questions." The officer took out a walkie talkie, and called for backup to the hallway.

Cyler nodded as the words echoed in his ears. _"...One of the bodies...?"_

Cyler stood there, stunned.

The second officer, approached the two, and also realized that Cyler was out of place.

"You Tony?"

Cyler looked at the officer, confused for a moment. Finally, he pointed back towards the door leading out to the stage.

"Naw, Tony's still in there. With the rest of them." Cyler thought, and realized that Ralph must have been asking for them. "Did you see Mr. H? Miss Davidson? They here?" It took a moment for the officer to make the connection. When he did, he took Cyler by the arm, and asked the other officer to continue without him.

"Hinkley? He's been hurt. Come on, kid. Let's get you out of here, before something happens to you, too."


	10. Red and Yellow Lights

**Chapter 10. Red and Yellow Lights**

Cyler was led out the back door. Although he tried to remain calm, the enormity of the situation began to fall on him. His face grew blank as he began to think. He didn't even notice Pam off in the distance. Frantic to find some answers, however, she spotted him.

"Cyler!" Pam ran up towards the teen. A few officers tried to catch her, as she raced onto the scene. She was, however, a woman possessed. She had to find the kids, and find out what happened to Ralph.

"Cyler! Cyler!" Pam repeated, as she raced up to him, grabbing him by his shoulders. "Where are the kids? Where's Ralph?"

Cyler, not fully thinking, simply replied "I don't believe it! He was dead...!"

Pam's face grew pale, as she looked at Cyler in disbelief.

"What?" she asked, desperately. "What? Ralph is dead?"

Cyler, realizing his mistake, shook his head and breathed out deeply. "Oh! No! No Miss Davidson. No. There was a dead body. In there. I found it..."

"Excuse me? Who are you?" The officer held onto Cyler's arm as he spoke to Pam.

"Cyler, listen to me. Where are the rest of the guys? Tony? Rhonda? And where is Ralph?"

Cyler's heart skipped a beat, as he remembered what the officer had said inside.

"Are you listening?" the officer demanded, by now annoyed. "Who are you?"

"Oh, Miss Davidson. I think Mr. H was hurt. You said something about Mr. Hinkley being hurt, didn't you?" This time Cyler addressed both Pam and the officer.

"For the last time, who are you?"

Close to tears, Pam offered her name, then explained that she was with Cyler and the rest of the band.

Then, gaining her composure, she asked for Ralph.

The officer's demeanor changed, as he looked at the woman in front of him. She was desperate and ragged. He also noticed that she had obviously fallen to the ground. Her knees were scraped and dirty, and her hands were reddened. In fact, they were sore from a thousand scrapes from the tiny bits of gritty concrete and shard of glass she had fallen on.

"I'm sorry, M'am. I can see you've been hurt. I'm Markus. Let's get you both away from here. I'll need to ask a few questions."

The two looked around, as the officer guided them away from the building. As they walked, they realized a dozen officers were outside the building too, all busy talking to partners, or talking on walkie talkies. Every so often, one would come out of the exit, leading a punk rocker. Sometimes the punk walked, of their own will. Most were dragged, kicking and thrashing, and restrained in cuffs.

"Miss Davidson," Cyler asked. "Tony and the others are still in there? What are we going to do?"

---

Although it felt like an hour, only a few minutes had passed. Tony, Rhonda, Paco and the rest of the band remained under the stage, and listened from behind the black stage curtains that shielded them underneath. There were occasional noises everywhere: a scream, a crash, or a angry yell. But the scene appeared to be calming down, and the club was clearing out. The mad rush to flee the club seemed to be over.

"I ain't gonna sit here all day, Rhonda. I ain't no coward," Tony whispered, as they listened to a few footsteps on the other side of the curtain.

"Shhh!" she replied, just able to hear the click and a buzz of a walkie talkie.

"Sarge. It's all clear._"Roger that. And everyone is out?_"

"We've secured the front entrance. It's just those rooms in the back. We've got some guys on it now."

L.A. Freeway listened to the footsteps as they walked away, with the crunching sounds of broken glass growing more distant.

"We gotta get outta here!" Rhonda whispered, in a slight panic. Then, in desperation, she began to scream.

"Help! Help! Over here!"

"What the...?"

"Don't leave us here! Please! We're under the stage!"

Tony rolled his eyes, as he tried to shush his girlfriend. Now they would look like they were hiding. It didn't matter to Tony that they indeed _were _hiding. He just didn't want anyone to know it. Especially the cops.

The curtain was lifted, and the officers pointed their guns under the stage. The officers stood in amazement for a moment, as the flashlight shone in the band's eyes. They looked like trapped animals, huddled close together under the stage, shielding their eyes from the bright light.

"What are you kids doing here?" The officer grabbed Rhonda's arm, and pulled her out. Crawling out from under the stage in a dirty (but once white) puffy dress, she looked even more out of place.

"We... we were trying to get out when everything happened..." Rhonda instinctively grabbed the officer for protection, and buried her face in his chest.

"Uh, yeah..." Tony added, trying to redeem himself as he crawled out next. "You see, I kinda made a mistake. I booked my band here, you know. I didn't know it was some kinda punk rock place. So, I made a mistake." Noticing his girlfriend clinging to the policeman, Tony took her arm, and pulled her in towards him.

The officer looked the group up and down. The band consisted of a few kids in relatively clean leather jackets and unripped jeans, and a young blond in a puffy white dress, with exaggerated makeup. The story, as far as mistakes went, was completely believable.

"Come on. Good kids like you don't belong in a place like this."

Tony was stunned. For the first time in his life, someone saw him as a good kid. He had been wrongfully accused before, and was automatically expecting to be dragged off to jail just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But standing there next to a girl in white, they looked like angels. Part of him resented being called a good kid, on both counts. But right here, right now, among the dark figures silhouetted in the smokey light, he was grateful for the mistaken identity.

The officer got on his walkie talkie.

"Sarge, we got a few kids in here. They're ok. Nothing but bystanders..."

---

"They found your friends, Mr. Johnson," Markus said to Cyler, as he put his walkie talkie back on his hip. "They'll need to be questioned, too. They're bringing them around. You can all go downtown together."

"And what about Ralph?" Pam asked, anxiously.

"Well, Miss Davidson, he is still en route to Mercy General. But the ambulance driver says he is stable."  
Pam was relieved, but still anxious to leave. The three leaned against the police car, in the front of the building. The night was dark, but everything on the block was lit up, brightly lit by flashing red and yellow lights of police cars. The lights pulsed beams against the brick building, and made the dirty marquee appear to flicker.

Cyler, dropped his head, not looking forward to the thought of spending the night in a police station, even if it was only as a witness. When he finally looked up, he spotted the Villacana Piranha off in the distance. The red lights reflected back off the black paint of the car.

"Villacana," Cyler mumbled under his breath, breaking the name up into two words. "What till I see him. There may be another murder tonight."

"What?" Markus asked.

"Nothing. I just can't believe Villacana brought us here. Tonight of all nights..."

Markus let out an acknowledging chuckle, then turned to Pam, who was cleaning her wounds with supplies from a first aide kit.

"So, Miss Davidson. You say you were attacked by two punks, leaving the building?"

"Actually, it was three. And they seemed to think I was someone else at first. A woman. They thought she set them up..."

"A woman?" Cyler asked, once again, curious.

Markus looked at his two witnesses, eyebrows raised. "What woman?" he asked.

"I don't know. But they kept telling me to warn her... They kept saying that she'd be dead soon."

"Um, I don't know if this means nothing, but..." Cyler looked back and forth at Pam and the officer, unsure of whether he should say anything.

"Wait a minute..." Markus interupted, taking notes on a small pad of paper.

"First, they thought I was her. Then they thought I was a police officer. They thought the woman they were looking for had called me."

Markus' face lit up. Something Pam said clicked.

"Hey, listen up," Cyler insisted. "You see, there was this woman... in the club..."

"What woman?" Markus asked, now more interested in Cyler's story. "Was it the same woman they were looking for?"

"I don't know who she was. But she was in that same hallway. You know, where I found the body..."

Markus was suddenly intrigued, anxious to learn of any possible connections.

"But who was she?" he asked, pressing on.

"I told you. I don't know. We barely said anything to each other." Cyler decided that the details of their encounter were probably none of their business. Still, he continued.

"But she kept warning me to get outta there. Like something was gonna go down. You know? Like she knew. Yeah, like she knew the place was going to blow up."

"And where is she now? What happened to her?"I don't know," Cyler replied, annoyed. "Before I could turn around, she was gone. The thing is, right... this woman kept looking around. Like she knew someone was after her..."

Markus smiled, as he nodded his head. His smile reminded Pam of the look that Bill often got, when he was about to crack a case, or when Ralph holographed on some important clue. It must be a look reserved only for law enforcement personnel, she thought.

Once again, Markus reached for his walkie talkie. He turned his back on the two, as he spoke.

"Sarge, I just found two witnesses. I think we may have a hit on our anonymous caller._"_

"_Ok, good! Let's get them downtown for statements."_

Pam and Cyler looked at each other in shock, as Markus put his pad away, and pushed off from the side of the police car. He opened the door, and quickly directed them in.

"But what about Ralph? I need to get to him?"I'm sorry, but that will have to wait. We're going to need your statements as soon as possible. We dragged seven dead bodies out of that hell hole, and you are our only leads."

Markus called over to another cop, then spoke a few words into his walkie talkie again. With the windows of the back seat of the police car rolled up, neither Pam nor Cyler could make out the words. Moments later, he was behind the wheel, turning on the siren, and pulling out.

As the car drove away, Cyler caught a fleeting glimpse of red and yellow lights, reflected off Villacana's black leather jacket as he leaned against a police car.

-To Be Continued-


	11. Downtown

**Chapter 11. Downtown**

Bill Maxwell honked on his horn, twice. Then - just to emphasize his point - he pressed down hard on the wheel. Still, the cars in front of him did not move.

The traffic leading up to _The Slammed Box _was at a stand still. It was like sitting on the L.A. Freeway on a Friday afternoon. Only now, his partner, the counselor, and a bunch of kids were in trouble at the other side of the stand still traffic.

Bill checked his watch. It was already 10:10.

"Damn!!!"

It had been at least a half an hour getting there. He was angry at the traffic, but more angry with himself for the poor response time. Worse than a rookie, he thought, beating himself up. He mumbled a few more choice words, then checked his watch again. Bill Maxwell had no intention of making it all the way across town - through back streets when necessary - only to be stopped just outside the scene.

Bill jerked the steering wheel to the right, and drove the right two wheels of his tan sedan up onto the sidewalk. Flicking on his hazzard lights, and jumping out of the car, he decided to take to foot.

Parking laws, be damned!

Racing through the sidewalks, he pushed past people standing by their cars, also waiting for the traffic to die down. Finally, he headed towards the flashing lights and a small fleet of LAPD cars. He approached the first officer he saw.

"Ok boys... what's going on here?" Bill asked, as he caught his breath. He reached into his suit jacket and flashed his badge. "Bill Maxwell, FBI."

"FBI?" the officer responded, annoyed. "You sure don't miss a beat... next thing you know, we'll be up to our knees in lawyers..." Bill cringed at the thought, then thought of the counselor.

"Listen, I've got some undercovers here, and I need to ..." Bill began. But before he could finish, he heard a familiar voice call out his name.

"Hey! Maxwell! Over here!"

Bill turned and looked across the street at Villacana and the rest of the band.

"Never mind, boys..." Bill said, patting the officer on the back.

"_Those kids _are your undercovers?"

"Yeah," Bill responded, "That kid in the leather jacket? Baby Face Barone, we call him... Best new fed in town. Rookie of the year...!" Bill's sarcasm was lost on the police officer. But what did it matter, as long as he bought his story? And what did that matter, as long as he could get on with it.

Bill jogged across the street, and over to the kids. Flashing his badge again, he convinced yet another officer that this group was working with him.

"What is going on, here?" Bill asked. "And where's Ralph...and the coun... Paaa... Miss Davidson... ?"

"I don't know, Mr. Maxwell" Rhonda replied, close to tears. "We haven't seen them all night. And Cyler's missing, too."

Bill looked at the blonde girl, then scanned the faces in front of him, trying to remember which one was Cyler.

_Villacana... Rhonda... Rodriquez... and... oh yeah... Cyler..._ _yeah..._

"What are you kids doing here?" Bill asked, protectively. "What happened?" The officer in charge, interrupted, but upon seeing Bill's badge, let them have a few minutes to themselves.

Tony continued, explaining the gig, the fight, and the police raid.

"And don't forget, like, hiding under the stage!" Rodriguez chimed in. Tony shot him a threatening glare.

"And Cyler went off, to find a way out," Rhonda added. "But he never came back, Mr. Maxwell. He never came back!"

Bill scanned through the crowds, looking for Ralph. Or Pam. Or even Cyler.

"Hey Maxwell," Villacana asked, pulling Maxwell out of earshot of the rest of the band. "I don't wanna get them all upset, or nothing, but there were a whole buncha ambulances here. And a few body bags, too." Villacana tried to hide his fears behind a thin veil of Machismo. Maxwell, the great master of that technique, saw right through it, and took a deep breath.

"Ok, I want you kids do what the nice officers tell ya...ok? I'm gonna go start taking some names..."

- - -

"Johnson...Cyler Johnson," the exhausted teen responded. "C - y - l - e -r."

"And you are?"

"Pamela Davidson. Come on, now! We told you everything in the ride over!" Pam chastised the officer. "I need to get to Mercy Hospital, to find out what happened to Ralph!"

"It's ok, Miss Davidson," Cyler said, consoling her, and rubbing her back. "He'll be ok."

Not looking up, Officer Markus continued typing on the old typewriter as he continued. "Mr. Johnson, can you tell me exactly what happened at the club tonight."

"My band was supposed to play at the club tonight, but it was a mistake. Our manager's a complete bozo, see? And he booked us at the wrong club..."

"Tell me about the woman, Mr. Johnson..."

Cyler looked back at the officer, a bit surprised, and even a bit more embarrassed.

"Umm..."

"You said you saw a woman in the club, in the hallway. Near where you found that body..."

Pam, hearing those words, shook her head in her hand even more. _Come on. Get a grip!_ She thought to herself. _You've seen dead people before,on cases. What's the difference here?_

She didn't want to think of the real difference - that Ralph was still unaccounted for.

"What did she look like, this woman?" Markus asked Cyler, who was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment.

"Uh, white, but not like you or Miss Davidson here. She was real white. Like a ghost... like chalk. And all punked out. With wild hair... red and black and white. Dreads and spikes, ya know?"

"How old...?"

"I don't know."

"Your age?" he asked, still trying to get at least a general description.

Cyler thought about it for a few moments. It was hard to tell. "If I had to guess?"

"If you must."

Cyler gave the officer a dirty look, although it was wasted on the man as he typed. Pam looked at him, wondering exactly went on. Until then, she hadn't noticed the bright red lipstick on his chin, smeared all the way to his ear. She reached over to him, and quickly rubbed the red off. Cyler, embarrassed by the whole situation, looked down at the floor.

"I dunno..."

"Thirty? Thirty five."

"Maybe..."

Pam looked at Cyler, a bit confused. The look she gave Cyler was in the form of a question. _"Older than me?"_ He was too embarrassed to look up and notice

"Thirty five?" Markus repeated, waiting for confirmation.

"I don't know," Cyler added. "Maybe she was... But she was dressed just like the rest of 'em. Maybe she was young, but she looked... real tired."

Finally, Markus looked up at the two sitting across his desk. "It'll be just a few more minutes. Miss Davidson. Now, can you describe the men who attacked you?"

Pam began to describe them, as Markus typed. He responded only with the occassional "Uh, huh..." Finally, Markus swivelled in his chair and grabbed three large black binders filled with photographs. He placed them in front of Pam, and asked her to look through them. He swivelled in his chair once more, and grabbed a thin black book just like the one in front of Pam. This one he handed to Cyler.

"Take look in these, and lemme know if you find them." The officer stood up, and walked towards the coffee machine. Pam opened the first page to find photos of dozens of men on each page. Cyler's pages, fewer in number, were all women. Impatiently, she got up and followed after Markus.

"Officer," she pleaded. "I have to warn you, I am an attorney. So if you have any plans of charging us..."

"Should I?" Markus cut her off, then sympathetically sighed, and decided to give the distraught woman a break. "Look, you know the procedure. We're not charging you. We just need to get all the information, maybe an I.D. or two. After that, you're free to go."

Pam's look of worry did not change.

"What is going on?"

"You understand I am not at liberty to discuss it with you," he responded. "It's an open investigation, and none of the facts are in yet. We don't even have our suspects lined up, yet." Markus pointed to his desk, the books, and Cyler as he slowly turned some pages. But when he realized neither his authority nor his patronizing were working with Pam, he made a deal.

"Look, I will make some calls, and see how your fiancé is doing. Then as soon as we go through all those books, I'll personally drive you to Mercy." Markus walked Pam back to her seat, and tapped on the cover of the top binder. Reluctantly, she opened the top book, once more.

"Mr. Johnson," Markus asked, as he turned again to get his coffee. "When you're through with that, we have some tapes we need you to listen to."

- - -

"We got an anonymous call from some chick. Next thing we know, we're busting the place, and loading body bags in the meat wagon. Whoever did this is looking at eight counts of first degree murder... and who knows how many other charges. This joint was nothing but a breeding ground for some crazy anarchists... but we never had anything on them until we got the tip. "

"Eight?!" Bill repeated after the lieutenant, still surprised by the number. "Wow... eight... Well, listen, three of my guys are missing. An' I can't find them anywhere! So you gotta help me find them."

"When did the FBI get involved in this?" the officer asked Bill, skeptically.

"Well, you can add kidnaping to that list of charges..." Bill said, winging it as he went along. "Interstate kidnaping. Last I checked, that was in our jurisdiction, right? Look, they, uh, may have some leads, you know, so maybe we can help each other out here..." "

The officer was not quite convinced, but too tired to argue with the agent. He got on his walkie talkie, and asked some questions.

"Ok, Maxwell. We've got two kids downtown - a pretty attorney, and some kid she was with."

"Yeah! That's them!"

"And your third guy may be at Mercy General. We sent a few down there bout half an hour ago."

Bill looked worried, knowing without the suit, his partner was just as susceptible to danger as anyone else. And considering just how used Ralph was getting to facing danger while in his suit, Bill worried that he may have done something stupid without it on.

But worrying wasn't going to help Ralph.

"OK, Mac! Thanks!" Bill called back to the officer, as he dashed off again and headed towards his car.

- To Be Continued -


End file.
